Defining Abby
by Chelsss
Summary: Meet Det. Abigail Hendricks of Narcotics. When she is reassigned to homocide, heads start clashing...often resulting in someone getting hurt. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own any characters of CSI:NY.**

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**Chapter 1: A Day in the life of New York's** **Finest**

New York City. People would say it's the city that never sleeps – and that saying has much truth behind it. Even at the crack of dawn, there were street vendors getting ready for the day. There were morning joggers running with their dogs at Central Park. There was already a traffic gridlock in the lower end of Manhattan. But most of all, the precinct where Abigail Hendricks worked, was already in full working force.

It was barely 6:00am, as Abigail had sat down at her desk with a cup of lukewarm bland coffee. Telephones were going off the hook, and as she looked around, she could see some of the detectives in her office already had an interesting start to the day. Tom Parks – her partner in narcotics, was already questioning a drug addict who looked like he had gone through hell and back and had survived to tell the tale.  
_Good luck with that Parks. It doesn't look like you're going to get anything out of him, _she thought. Abigail moaned in agony and rubbed her temples. She was already starting to get a headache, and the last thing she wanted to do today was to chase down drug dealers and such. The smell of a hot coffee sparked her attention, but she did not look up, keeping her eyes closed

"It looks like you need one"

"I already got one Parks. Dark, full of flavour and volume. It's the _worst_ of the worst. Honestly, you'd think the Captain could go and pull some strings about this."

"It's Starbucks you Pop-tart," Abigail looked up and saw her forty something ageing partner holding a hot cup of steaming coffee, "It's your favourite too Abby."

She took it from his hand and warmly embraced the closest thing to heaven. As she was about to take a large gulp, Abigail paused and raised an eyebrow at her partner, "What's up Parks? It's not everyday you'd treat a girl to a cup of coffee," Abigail inquired.

"You, a girl? I never noticed," he replied. Before his brunette counterpart could throw the closest thing at him, Tom Parks quickly continued, "I'm doing you a favor darling. Captain told us to check out a tip we got couple of days ago. It's going to be a long day. Com'on. We don't want to be missing any fun today. Leave your things here. I'll drive."

Abigail groaned as she got up and followed the man who had mentored her for the past 7 years. "Is there a day when you don't act like a cheerleader?"

Tom looked back, "I like cheerleaders. They're so…cheery"

"Well I don't," muttered Abigail. Heading out the door, she knew it was going to one _very_ busy day.

* * *

"So what have we got today?" Abigail asked.

"Anonymous tip saying there was going to be a drug shipment coming in tomorrow night. We think it's by the Tanglewood boys"

"So where are we headed? To the docks?"

"Nay, it's too early to tell where the drop is going to be. But I think we know someone who might hold that information"

"We know?"

"Well, more like _you_ know, sweet cakes."

"Parks, you know I'm not very patient. Where are we going?"

"Oh com'on. Have a little sense of humour. I keep telling you kid, you're never going to find Mr. Right if you don't smile or laugh or make some jokes." Tom looked at his young partner, who clearly did not enjoy being nagged at.

Abigail had been assigned to him almost 7 years ago after his previous partner had died in a drug bust that had gone terribly wrong. She was a rookie, he remembered, who had about 3 years experience as a street cop. She came to him as a young ambitious detective who had dreams of cracking down every drug dealer in New York City. He wasn't very fond of her in her early years. He had always thought women were a liability in his years of experience. But she was different, as he observed her. Abigail was tough, and an incredible chameleon. She was able to hide her emotions and perform effortlessly. Her ability to act also made her one of the damn finest undercover cops in the division. Tom looked at Abigail like a daughter. All in all, Tom had a part in molding this rookie cop into one of the toughest, meanest narcotics detective.

"_Tom_," Abigail said in a tone that he knew she wasn't playing around.

"Alright alright, Sheesh, kid. No wonder all the boys run the other way when they see you. You take everything so seriously. We're going to see our good old friend Benny."

"Bernard Marx? I thought he was doing time for armed robbery."

"Got out on parole 2 months ago. Now it's time to pay him a visit." Tom paused, and chuckled to himself, "The fool missed his parole meeting. Probably to get high or somethin'"

"And you think he knows something about the drop?"

"Abby, he knows _everything._ Don't you remember?"

Abigail shuttered, "Don't remind me"

"Oh? But why not walk down memory lane? If I remember correctly, he knew you were a size 6. He knew you like your coffee black. He knew you smelled of sweet lavender with a hint of rosemary. He knew –"

"That's enough. Don't make me recall some of _my_ memories I have that put you in the spotlight." Abigail narrowed her eyes, then slowly, but quietly laughed.

"See kid? You really should laugh more. It lights up the whole world!"

As her laughter died down and masked her face with a tone of confidence. "Another time Tom. We're here. Shall I take the back entrance?"

Tom nodded and signaled another cop to come with him to the front entrance, as Abigail walked off to the backyard.

Bernard Marx was involved with a case 4 years ago that put him in for possession of crack and armed robbery. In the plea bargain, the DA had agreed only charge him for armed robbery. It wasn't a pleasant case for Abigail. Bernard had become infatuated with her, during her undercover operation, and she had let him get close – a little _too_ close.  
_That's all in the past now,_ she thought.

As she crept around the house, she noticed it was getting a little too quiet for liking. She bent down and slowly reached for her gun. Abigail approached the window and peaked inside. Surely enough, she saw her old friend and some of his friends shooting high. She also noted that at least 3 kilos of cocaine were lying on the counter. She then heard Tom's voice.

"NYPD. Open up Benny! We need to talk!"

With those words, the house went into chaos. Abigail saw the men scrambling to rid of all trace of their party and hiding the bags of cocaine in a bag. She then saw Benny head for the back door. As Tom kicked down the front door, Abigail quickly ran to the back entrance, quickly glancing at Tom and shouting, "I got him Tom! Don't worry"

She followed Benny through the many alleys, quickly closing in the space between her and the suspect. "Com'on Benny! We just want to talk," Abigail yelled as both her and Benny were heading towards the Hudson River.

"Fat chance, bitch," and Benny turned around and pulled a gun at Abigail. "The last time we talked I landed behind bars. You're bad luck to me."

Abigail panted, catching her breath. "Oh that was one little incident. What's done is done. We just want a little information, that's all."

"No way, I'm not talking, " He fired one shot in the air, and stepped back, creeping closer to the edge that met a hundred feet of cold water.

"Don't make me mad, you prick," Abigail warned as she held up her own gun, "In 5 minutes there will be a lot more cops you're going to have to deal with. So we deal with me, or the whole of NYPD. Your choice."

She observed that Benny looked extremely nervous, so she decided to keep pressing. "All we want is the location of the drug shipment tomorrow night. You must know something Benny."

"I can't tell you Abs! They'll kill me," he wailed, "They'll kill me and my Ma."

"We can help you Benny. I can help you. Where is the drop going down?"

At this point, he was starting to become hysterical and became dangerously near falling into the Hudson River. Abigail knew there was little time left before he either killed himself, or fell into the water. She couldn't take any chances. "I can protect your mother Benny. You know I can. Tanglewood's smart enough never to mess with me."

A look of hesitation passed Benny's face, but soon relaxed and his gun dropped a few centimeters. "It's going to be at least 50 kilos of co-"

He was violently interrupted with 4 gunshots._ Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!_ Abigail took cover and saw as Benny's body slowly met the cold water of the Hudson River. Abigail had been so focused on Benny that she had failed to notice the car that had driven by. The black Buick had now driven off leaving tire marks on the street, just as Tom and other police officers were coming down.

"God dammit!" She muttered, as she followed Benny into the river. She was not about to lose him when he was so close to telling her what she wanted to know. The cold water hit her like a thousand knives, as she swam towards the unconscious body.

Reaching him, Abigail checked his pulse and noted he was still alive – just barely. There were multiple shots in his chest, with one very close to his heart. "You better stay alive, you son of a bitch! You better stay alive. I did not jump in to save your ass for nothing," she muttered as she struggled back to shore.

Tom was already near the bay and offered his hand to help, which his partner gladly took. "Jesus Christ Abby, you're shaking. You need a paramedic." He reached out his radio and called for one.

Abigail, though, had better things in mind other than her own well-being. She began shaking Benny, "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Where is the drop?! God dammit Benny! Don't you die on me now. You can die any day but today Benny!"

Tom observed Benny's lifeless body and bowed his head down. "Abigail," he said quietly, "he's gone now. It looks like he bled out."

Abigail stopped the shaking and just sat there silently beside him. "He can't be dead," she whispered.

"I'll call the CSIs," Tom said. "You did your best, kid. But sometimes, these things just happened. We're going have to find some other way around this."

"I was so close Tom. ­_So close_."

"I know, kid. I know. Come on, we need to warm you up. Paramedics are here." Tom grabbed her elbow and attempted to help her up, but was met with much resistance.

"I'm fine Tom, really. I'm just going to linger around until homicide gets here. That alright with you?" Abigail looked up. Tom could see what was going through mind. He knew she wanted to cry, wanted to yell, wanted to scream. But he also knew she was too strong-headed and stubborn to do so.

"Yea, that's fine. I'll head back to the precinct. You sure you're alright Abby?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

Abigail blinked a few times, as if she ridding herself of any emotion towards the now lifeless body on the ground. "Yea, I'm fine," she replied, and coughed, "Never better." She smiled reassuringly to her partner. "Really. I'm fine. If I have an emotional breakdown one day, I'll let you know and you can get me a shrink okay?" she joked.

Tom wasn't convinced, but knew Abigail had dealt with worst things and lived through them. He knew she would be fine. What he didn't know was _how_ she dealt with them, and that worried him because he didn't know how that would affect her health in the long-term.

"Alright kid. You call me if you need anything."

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_**A/N:** This is my first try at writing for CSI:NY. Leave any comments or feedbacks! The CSIs to appear in the next chapter.  
Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2: The Switchup

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:NY's characters and such...**

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**Chapter 2: The Switch-up**

Mac Taylor and Danny Messer had arrived at the scene of a drive-by shooting that was reported just moments ago. Danny got out of the car and stretched his arms and yawned, "It's too early in the day for murder. Can't these pricks take a hint and start shootin' people after noon?"

Mac smirked at his colleague, "It's never too early to catch a criminal." Mac scanned the scene and noticed the dead body on the grass, along with a young brunette hovering around it. He also saw Flack who was just finishing talking to other officers.

"Who's the chick?" Danny asked, pointing to a very wet and shivering Abigail.

Detective Donald Flack walked towards the two CSIs, and said, "Vic's name was Bernard Marx. Narcotics went over to his place this morning, wanting to talk to him about some drug shipment. The guy goes berserk, runs away and is chased by that detective right there," he pointed towards Abigail who still hadn't moved away from Benny.

"And destroying all the evidence," Danny muttered.

Flack smiled and continued, "Anyways, it was a drive-by shooting. Our vic fell into the Hudson. She –" Flack, again pointed towards Abigail, "jumped in after him and pulled him out. Name's Abigail Hendricks. Works in narcotics and has been for the past 7 years."

Danny made a low whistle, "Talk about saving the day."

Mac smirked and looked at Danny, "Less talking Messer. Bring the kit."

Abigail had not noticed the commotion that was going on around her. In her mind, she was still focused on Benny's lifeless body. She felt shivers just staring at him. _Those eyes_, she thought.

If only she had seen the car, she could have pushed him out of the way. If only she talked faster and pried the information out of him. If only -

"Excuse me, Detective Hendricks?" A male voice had interrupted Abigail's thoughts. She tore her eyes away from Benny's body and found herself starting into a pair of very, very, blue eyes.

"What?" she answered. She really wasn't in any mood to play a witness right now.

"Could you tell me what happened?" She then realized that the voice hadn't come from those blue eyes, but the man beside him. He was must shorter than the blue-eyed detective and looked much older, who held out a blanket for her.

Abigail took the blanket and wrapped it around her shivering body. "Depends who I'm talking to," she retorted.

"Excuse me. My name's Detective Mac Taylor. This is Detective Flack." He pointed to the blue-eyed detective, who at the moment was intensely gazing at Abigail.

_Is that suppose to intimidate me?_ She thought.

"You know, Detective Flack, I'm not the suspect here. So stop looking at me, like I am one," she said coldly. Flack had instantly softened his face, but Abigail still noted that the familiar gaze of intensity was still there.

Turning back to Mac, Abigail answered, "Drive-by shooting. Tried to get him to tell me some information I needed involving Tanglewood and their dealings. He was about the spill the beans… then the car just came and went."

It was Flack's turned to speak, "Did you see what kind of car it was?"

"Uh, yea. It was a black Buick. Tinted windows. I couldn't see the liscense plate. They shot 4 times before he fell in."

Abigail looked down at the body, "He was still alive when I reached him."

Mac smiled at Abigail and placed a hand on her shoulder, "It's not your fault."

Abigail snorted, "Where have I heard that before?" She paused, then continued, "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Nothing for now."

"Fine. I'm gonna go back to the precinct and finish off some paperwork then. If you need anything else, you'll know where to find me."

Abigail slowly walked away from the two detectives, but not before stealing one more glance at Benny's body that was now being processed by another CSI.

"Tough chick. She really put you in the spot, Flack" Danny remarked and chuckled at the short interaction between the two detectives.

"Shut it Messer. She ain't my type." he retorted.

"You'd have to admire the kind of dedication she has to her job though," Mac commented, "I don't really know any detectives who would jump into Hudson to save a criminal's life. That tells me she's compassionate and dedicated."

"Or you could say she's crazy," replied Danny, as he was photographing the tire marks that was left by the Buick.

* * *

Sitting at her desk, it was hard to concentrate on her work, without thinking about the day's earlier events. It wasn't the first time someone had gotten shot in front of her eyes. Abigail had seen her fellow officers fall in the line of duty, and had seen criminals die from their wounds. Hell, she had even shot a few herself. But every time she saw a pair of eyes close or left lifeless– no matter good guy, or bad guy – it still haunted her. 

"Don't think too hard on it kid. When it happens, it happens," Tom said as he looked across his desk as his partner who was gazing at nothing.

Abigail looked at Tom and half-smiled, "I know. It just that…Benny was a good person. He was just a kid who ended up on the wrong side of the law. Now, he's just going to be forgotten. Turned into another case number. That's all everybody will know him by."

She sighed and started twirling her pen; a habit of hers when she was either bored or distracted. "You know they're never going to catch the guy who did it."

Tom looked up from his desk and raised an eyebrow. Abigail continued, "Tanglewood protects their own. They know how to deal with those who snitch. The CSIs are wasting their time on it."

"I wouldn't count on it Abby. I've worked with Mac Taylor in the past. He's a damn good detective, and an even better scientist. He won't give up. I remember one time he solved a murder from teeth impressions. _Teeth impressions_ of all things. Everybody thought it was a cold case. But he was determined, and he led an incredible team of young eager detectives who were just as determined as him."

"Yea, I've heard of that story. An old friend of mine, Aiden Burns was on that case."

The door had opened and Abigail looked up and saw her boss signaling for her to follow him. "Hendricks!" he yelled.

Abigail cringed at his voice. Every time she was called into the office, it was never a good thing. She slowly got out from her chair and walked into the Captain's office, otherwise known to her as Dante's inferno.

"Close the door Abigail and take a seat," he instructed. She did not like the tone of his voice. Slowly, she sat in the chair opposite to her captain of 7 years, but avoided staring into his eyes. Those eyes, in her opinion could burn through your body. Captain Raymond Kalowski. A legend. A man who used too much hair gel and smoked way too much. Both the Captain and the detective had never taken a liking towards one another. The Captain didn't like having a female detective under his wing and thus was extra tough on Abigail. One time, she was put on desk duty for a week spilling his coffee – accidentally, of course. And that was just the beginning of it.

Abigail, on the other hand, didn't like the Captain because, well frankly - she just didn't like him.

"What the hell happened today?" he demanded.

"Read the report." That earned her a stern look from the Captain. Abigail rolled her eyes and continued, "Drive-by shooting, sir. Was killed before I got any decent information out of him. All I know is there's about 50 keys of coke coming in."

Silence blanketed the room. Abigail couldn't help but wonder what would happen to her. Would he suspend her for something she couldn't control? The Captain rested his hand on his chin and got up from his seat. "Abigail, you're a damn good cop. Without you, there'd be a whole lot of crap going on out on the streets. You're dedicated to your job, and you give it your very best."

Abgiail became confused. It was a rarity that the Captain ever gave her a meaningful compliment. "There's _still_ crap going out on the streets, Cap. Listen, if you're going to fire me. Just say it. Save the frivolities for the next guy."

"Hendricks, Captain Stanton Gerrard mentioned he was looking for a competent detective to come work for him over at homicide. He had heard of your reputation, and requested if you were willingly to work for him."

It took a moment or two to let Raymond's words sink in. "You hate me that much huh?"

"I don't hate you, Abigail. If you ever thought that, then I'm sorry you thought that way. When you first came to me, you were a weakling! You couldn't take any heat. Hell, you couldn't even keep a straight face without tearing or something. But now look at you. You're a strong kid and a great cop. Stanton's a strict Captain – some people say he's worse than me. But you can handle it; I'm sure of it."

"Sir, I wouldn't dare to believe that Satan is worse than you."

Her boss had decided to ignore her comment. "You can report to him tomorrow. In the mean time, just finish filing the paperwork and hand over the case to Pete Nielsen."

_Just like that._ Abigail Hendricks was no longer a narcotics detective. She was now a homicide detective – a term she would think would remain foreign to her. She wondered how Tom was going to take this. "Does Tom know?"

"Yes he did. For a week now." Raymond paused, and continued, "Look at me detective. You're a damn good cop. Don't you ever forget that. You show Gerrard and the rest of homicide what you're made of. You're a tough cookie. You don't want them thinking narcotics are a bunch of weaklings."

* * *

Sitting back down at her desk, Abigail still couldn't believe the news she heard just moments ago. _Honestly, how different can it be? It's just…dead people…lifeless bodies…and crying families…oh god, what am I getting into?_

"You okay kid?" Tom asked wearily.

A reassuring warm smile spread across her face. "I'll be okay. But will you?"

Tom raised his eyebrow. "You're losing me, Parks. But you already knew that didn't you? That's okay, I'm not mad. Just…shocked. I'd always thought I'd stay in narcotics forever."

"Sorry kid, Captain told me not to say anything. I used to work in homicide before narcotics. It's different over there, you know. You're going to learn a thing or two. Trust me, this move is good."

"Yea, well, you're going to miss me, you know that?"

"Of course I will. Who's going to make me laugh and smile now? "

Abigail laughed at Tom's attempt to cheer her up. "Yea, yea, yea. I just hope the people down at homicide is just as annoying and cheery as you."

"Well, I'm going to miss you. But not for the reasons you're thinking." Abigail raised her eyebrow

"Oh? And why not?"

"I'm retiring Abby. My wife thinks I'm still crazy working here at the age of 43. But she's right. I guess you going to homicide meant a nice way to end things. I want to see my kids grow up, and go to Hawaii with my wife."

Abigail's eyes widened and broke into a grin, "Well you deserve it Parks. I guess that makes me feel better that I'm not leaving you to some rookie detective. Well, this calls for a celebration then. Dinner's on me, Tom. And bring the family."

It was going to be hard for Abigail to see her mentor leave his job that he always loved. But there was truth in what he said too. Tom Parks was getting old for a cop. He deserved to retire, and Abigail was happy to see him finally relax. Most definitely, it made her change in career a lot easier.

_Oh well,_ she thought_ I'll show those damn bastards._

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_**A/N:** Next up…Doomsday. lol, hope you enjoyed it! ) Don't forget to leave a review. Any comment or feedback is good. _


	3. Chapter 3: Starting Over

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from CSI:NY.**

**Chapter 3: Starting Over**

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The dark walls of the office where Abigail would call her second home from now on sent an eerie shiver down her body. First off, it was gloomy. Brown wooden panels encased the area, with dim yellow lights that would cast shadows in every corner. Abigail was now standing in the doorway of her new department, and she could already tell she wasn't going to like it very much.

Walking into the dark room, she began looking around for anyone remotely resembling Captain Stanton Gerrard – even though she had no idea who he was.

_Oh god, I must look like an idiot here,_ she thought. All she was doing was standing in the middle of the hall.

But luck was on her side today; Mac Taylor had just walked into the room.

"Mac Taylor!" she yelled, hoping she would grab a few minutes of his time. He looked extremely busy, but she was curious with the investigation of Benny Marx. Besides, she needed somebody who could point her in the right direction of her new boss.

Mac turned his head towards Abigail and smiled. "Detective Hendricks. It's nice to see you dry and warm"

"Yes well, I'd have you to thank for that." Abigail looked down towards Mac's hand and noticed he was holding many, many, _many_ papers. "Well, I won't keep you from your investigation…"

"Just so you know, we did catch Benny's killer."

Abigail looked up, with her eyebrows raised. _No way._ She looked into Mac's eyes, to see if there was any indication if he was lying. _He wouldn't lie!_.

"Who?"

"Just another punk kid Sonny Sassone paid off to do the dirty work. Bad news is, we didn't have enough evidence to put Sassone behind bars, but we caught the shooter, nonetheless."

Abigail was relieved – it was as if some huge burden was lifted off her shoulders. At least Benny got vengeance. Well, sort of.

"Thanks for letting me know Mac," said Abigail, smiling reassuringly, "I won't keep you from wherever you're going."

She turned around and started walking in the opposite direction, when she remembered why she had stopped to talk to Mac in the first place. Quickly turning around, she asked, "Oh! Before I forget, do you by any chance know where I can find Gerrard?"

Without looking up from his papers, Mac pointed to a dark corner office, and walked away.

Turning towards where Mac had pointed, Abigail had a gut feeling that Kalowski was right; Stanton _was_ worse than him. That was something, she really wasn't looking forward too.

Walking in front of the door that was once probably clearly labeled 'CAPTAIN STANTON GERRARD, but had over the years faded, she felt like she was entering her doomsday. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself.

She knocked on the door. Once, two, three times, and waited for…something.

The silence that followed seemed like an eternity, and Abigail did not like that. She was an impatient detective: She _hated_ waiting.

A gruff voice coughed behind the door and roughly yelled, "Come in!"

Slowly, Abigail opened the door and walked into the stuffy office of Captain Stanton Gerrard, who was currently speaking on the phone. Abigail took the opportunity to observe him. His face looked old – not just physically, but emotionally. Abigail could only guess what he had encountered in his lifetime. His eyes looked focused, determined, and hard – like a lion pouncing on its prey. His voice was low and rough, and as Abigail listened to his phone conversation, she could tell he meant no funny business.

Kalowski was right: Gerrard _was_ worse than him. At least Raymond knew how to take a joke.

"…I don't care if it takes you 10 years! Just get the damn thing done, or I'll have your goddamn badge!!" Gerrard had slammed the phone on his desk, startling Abigail out of her reveries.

"Geez. Is it so hard to find a decent officer these days?" Gerrard rubbed his eyes and then looked at Abigail. "Who are you?"

"Detective Abigail Hendricks sir."

"From narcotics?" He grunted, "I didn't expect you to look like that."

_What was that suppose to mean?_ Abigail unconsciously looked down at her suit and dress pants. Her dark brown hair was in a ponytail, and she wasn't wearing heavy make-up. _There's nothing wrong with what I look like._

"Excuse me, sir?"

"You're too pretty to be a cop."

Abigail was taken aback by that comment. _Too pretty to be a cop?_ If there was a description as to what an NYPD officer should look like, she certainly didn't receive that memo.

"Well sir, I could say the same for you." If the Captain was going to give her a hard time, she would make sure she would show him she wasn't afraid.

Gerrard narrowed his eyes and stood up, "Now listen here detective, I requested you come work for me because of your record, and one helluva recommendation from Kalowski. Now if you're going decide you want to give me any sort of trouble, then I suggest you think hard on that decision. Because I can make your life a living hell."

In response, Abigail smirked, "No trouble at all sir. As long as we have a…mutual understanding towards each other, I don't think there'll be any problems."

"Good." Gerrard then led Abigail out of his office and walked towards one of the desks, "Flack, take her. Show her how things get done around here."

Looking past Gerrard's shoulder, Abigail saw the man she least expected to see again. The very same blue-eyed detective named Don Flack sitting at his desk, fixated on some file. Her shoulders sunk and her lips frowned. _Well, this isn't going to be easy,_ she thought.

Gerrard turned around and towered over Abigail, as if to intimidate her, "Just so you know detective, I don't like smartasses."

Abigail smiled in returned, "At least we have one thing in common."

"You watch yourself," he said slowly and stormed off, slamming his door and shaking the ground beneath Abigail's feet. Turning back, she noticed the blue-eyed detective looking at her, admirably.

"What?"

"It's not everyday I get to see the Captain as angry as that. You better watch your tongue Hendricks," he coolly spoke.

"Well, I'll take that into consideration the next time I decide to push his buttons," Abigail remarked. She looked at Flack in the eye, and quickly looked away. Those eyes still held the same intensity she saw yesterday, and still eerily made Abigail remember things she didn't want to remember.

_Keep your distance Hendricks,_ she thought.

"I know nobody is going to do it, so I welcome you to your desk. Sorry, your arrival came at a little short noticed, so no flowers or welcome basket," said Flack.

Abigail raised her eyebrow at his remark, but went to the wooden table, whose corners were chipping away and held stains of coffee rings from its previous owner.

Flack had gotten up and called over, "Com'on, I'll show you the ropes around here. I'm heading over to the lab. Get you acquainted with them."

Following the blue-eyed cop, Abigail responded, "Detective, I'm been with the force for almost 11 years now. Don't treat me like I'm some kind of rookie."

Flack merely smirked, "Sometimes, we all have to start over."

* * *

The Crime lab has definitely held a different atmosphere than her new precinct, in Abigail's opinion. It was brighter, friendlier and was not confined by wooden or brick walls that accumulated dust in the air.

Following Flack into one of the many rooms, he was busy briefing Abigail on the current case he was working on, "Vic's name was Jason Kinsey. And our only witness seems to be missing. Killed in an elevator by a gunshot wound. Only, we don't think it's a normal gun. We're going to Mac right now, and try to figure out what was used as the murder weapon."

"How do you know if it wasn't a normal gun?"

"The shot didn't yield the same result, as you would expect if a normal gun was used. The killer wasn't that far away from the victim; about 8 feet. It should have been a through-and-through. But it wasn't."

"Flack, you're certainly on your way to becoming a CSI. Ever consider joining my team?" Abigail looked towards the voice, and saw Mac approaching them, wearing a lab coat, and holding out two others.

"No thanks, Mac. You know I can't tell apart my hydrogens and carbons."

Mac chuckled at Flack and turned to Abigail and held out the coat, "Welcome aboard."

Taking it, she answered, "Wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Alright, we know the killer didn't use a conventional gun. Now we just have to figure out what the murder weapon was."

"How are you going to do that?" asked Abigail. This was all new for her, and she was genuinely intrigued. Much to her dismay, Flack was right. It did feel like she was starting over, because she had absolutely _no_ idea how forensics worked – except for fingerprints and DNA.

"Simple. We experiment and compare the blast residue." Mac then took out a variety of pipe guns and zip guns to test fire.

One by one, Abigail observed Mac as he fired each weapon on to the gel slab. He was detailed and thorough, taking his time, not wanting to miss any detail. Mac looked like a good man, in her opinion. Despite only having a few conversations with him, Abigail had taken a liking towards him already.

As Mac finished the potential weapon, he sighed and looked over his observations.

"So what'd you find Mac?" asked Abigail.

"Nothing definitive. But now it looks like the killer used a weapon with a short barrel that was too wide for the shell."

"So, it's not a legit weapon? Must be homemade then," Abigail thought loudly.

"Now we just have to figure out what is it, and more importantly, where is it," Mac stated.

Just then, two younger CSIs came into the room. The male, Abigail had recognized from the crime scene of Bernard Marx. The other, a female was shorter than her, with sandy blonde hair was someone Abigail hadn't seen before.

The male CSI turned towards her, "Hey! You're that crazy cop who jumped in the river. Hendricks right?"

Abigail lightly chuckled, "Yea. That's me alright."

"What'd you get from Sid, Danny?" inquired Mac, interrupting the two detectives.

"Kinsey suffered from Paget's Disease, a bone-softening condition. Something left an imprint on his skull. A dedication plaque or somethin'. We ran it through the New York Historical Society database, and it came to a plaque on the Furnell Building. Lindsay and I are going to go check it out right now."

"Let me come with you," Abigail stated. "This science stuff ain't my cup of tea."

Danny looked confused, "Aren't you with narcotics though?"

"She got switched over. You'll be seeing a lot of her from now on," stated Flack. "Well, I'm going to do a little diggin' into our vic."

He began walking away, then suddenly called out, "Hey Danny?"

Danny looked up in response at Flack. He pointed at Abigail and said, "Don't scare her too much. She's new. I need her back in one piece."

In turn, Abigail rolled her eyes and muttered, "I'm _not_ new."

* * *

Abigail and the two CSIs arrived at the building and had found the dedication that was imprinted on Jason Kinsey's skull. Abigail was still bitter over the fact that Flack and quite possibly the rest of the CSI team had been treating her like a rookie - even though if there was some truth to it. It was true she would have to become familiar with the forensics lingo. It was true she would have to meet new people. Even so, she didn't want that being rubbed in her face.

While Danny and Lindsay were examining the plaque, Abigail's phone went off. While Abigail was busy, Danny had taken the opportunity to observe her.

"Quit eyeing her," scolded Lindsay. "If you like her, just ask her out."

Danny laughed at Lindsay's assumptions. "You kidding me Montana? I hardly know her. Besides, I don't date crazy chicks. Countries girls on the other hand, could be a possibility."

Lindsay blushed at his comment and quickly changed the subject to the commemorative plaque, "Hmm, well, history never made a huge impression on me."

"Well, luckily it made one on the victim," said Danny.

Ending her phone call, Abigail pointed down the street, "That was Flack. Said the victim's apartment is just a couple blocks down that way."

Danny continued looking around and pointed to a sign, "Whose last name's is Kinsey, right?"

Lindsay and Abigail both followed Danny's hand, and found a parking lot sign which read: KINSEY PARKING.

The three detectives looked at each other and walked over to the parking lot where a man wearing a blue t-shirt was currently reading the newspaper.

" 'Sup man? You work here?" asked Danny.

The man looked up at the three detectives, "No, it's my day off."

It was clear to Abigail that he had a sense of humour – a very sarcastic sense of humour. And she did not like that.

"You know Jason Kinsey, Mike?" she asked, pointing as his name tag.

"Yea, this is his lot; he owns it."

"Does he come by often?" asked Lindsay.

"Yea, every night. That's his Lexus as a matter of fact," Mike gestured towards the silver Lexus that was parked a couple feet away from where the three detectives were standing.

"He got beef with anybody?" asked Danny.

"The guy who owns this building," Mike pointed to the Furnell building, "They've been fighting over this lot for years. Couple days ago, they got into a bat. It got pretty nasty."

"Does he have a name?"

"Oscar Bowers."

Abigail looked at Danny and Lindsay, "Shall we go pay a visit to Mr. Bowers?"

"So we shall. Stick around Mike, we might have more questions."

As they walked back to the Furnell Building, Lindsay noticed that Abigail looked quite focused and fixated on…something.

"What's wrong?"

"Something doesn't sit well with me with that guy. I could be wrong; it's just a gut feeling. It's the way he answered our questions. He just seemed so…relaxed? Calm maybe? A little too helpful, I suppose. I dunno about you, but if I was approached by three cops, I'd be shittin' my pants, if you know what I mean."

Entering the building, Danny walked towards the elevator and pushed the button. "Well don't get ahead of yourself Hendricks. We don't have any reason to be suspicious of him. Right now, the evidence is telling us to go 'UP'."

"Evidence," muttered Abigail. "Whatever happened to plain old common sense?"

"Flack was right. You've got a lot to learn, Hendricks," remarked Danny.

Abigail couldn't think of a remark to snap back at Danny because he was right. She did have a lot to learn. So she kept her mouth shut, which seemed to satisfy Danny.

The elevator bell went off and the doors opened, allowing the three detectives to enter and question the one Oscar Bower.

* * *

**_A/N:_** _Up next, they meet Oscar Bowers. This case is from the episode 'Youngblood' from season 2. I don't really remember what happened word for word. I used the CBS website for reference, and the wonderful world of Youtube for some quotes.  
Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for dropping by, and don't forget to review!_


	4. Chapter 4: She's Impatient

**Chapter 4: She's Impatient**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Abby. Case is from the episode, "Youngblood"**

* * *

Oscar Bowers was a fifty something year old landlord of the Furnell Building, who in Abigail's opinion had bad taste in design. His office walls were of a tacky blue colour, which did nothing to brighten up the room.

As the three detectives walked into Oscar Bowers' office, Danny flashed his badge and the two female detectives took a seat opposite from the landlord. Lindsay showed Oscar a picture of the late Jason Kinsey, "You know who he is?"

"Yea, he owns the lot besides my building. Is he dead?"

"No, he's sleeping Einstein," retorted Abigail.

Oscar chuckled at her comment, "Well, it looks like he's never going to wake up again." He paused and rubbed his eyes, then continued, "No one's going to care that piece of garbage is dead."

Abigail looked at Danny, with an apprehensive look. Lindsay continued interrogating him, "Well, thank you for sharing that little fact with us, but we're investigating a murder here."

"You ever get into a physical altercation with Kinsey?" asked Danny.

"Ha! You kidding me? I could take him with one hand tie behind me back," Oscar remarked nonchalantly.

"Well, police logs says you did. Two days ago," stated Abigail, looking at her notebook. "Wanna tell us about it?"

Abigail noted that Oscar hesitated to answer, as if to make sure he had to choose his words carefully, "He provoked me. He threw a punch, so I threw one back." He paused then continued, "I was talking to his girl the other night, he gets all possessive on me, and we run into each other on the street and we exchange some words."

"That girl, she didn't happen to be on the very young side, would she?" inquired Danny.

Oscar Bowers chuckled and looked at Danny, "I didn't figure you for a player, detective. But now that I look at you, I could see how you could know about a girl like that."

"A girl like what?"

"You know these girls. They like to come out and…play."

Abigail looked down at the ground in disgust. In the past, she had met her fair share of _eccentric_ people, but every time she met someone new, it never ceased to amaze her what kind of people lurked in the streets of New York City. She was going to put Oscar Bowers in place. Unfortunately for her, Lindsay had noticed she started getting agitated, and quickly changed subjects.

"You were talking about Jason Kinsey?"

Oscar quietly chuckled, "That man was a real piece of work. Everyday he pulls up to the lot, leans out of his car and waves."

"And that's why you guys start throwing punches?"

"Him and me bid on that lot. He buys it out from under me, and now he rubs my nose in it? Who does he think he is?"

"And that's the reason you start beef on the street?" asked Abigail.

"Look, am I glad he's dead? Sure. Now maybe I can get my hands on the lot. Did I kill him? No."

"Now why don't I believe you?" This man was sick, in Abigail's opinion.

"I have an alibi," he stated, "I was at Nabokuv's last night."

Abigail smiled at him, "You better be telling the truth. If I find out you're lying, you'll be going to a place where 'fun' is given a whole new meaning…if you know what I mean."

* * *

In the elevator, Abigail let hell loose. "That man is a shame to society! Disgusting creep! I ought to have him arrested for just breathing!"

"I agree with you. He's got to be sick to be seein' girls old enough to be his daughter or worse; his granddaughter," said Danny.

"Can't believe he thought you were into _that_ stuff," said Lindsay, remembering Oscar Bowers' earlier comment to Danny.

"Eh, he could be right Lindsay, " suggested Abigail. She tilted her head to her shoulder and smirked at Danny. "Who was the youngest person you ever dated, Messer?" As much as she would have liked not starting over, Abigail was intrigued by these CSIs.

Danny suddenly tensed up, and he took off his glasses and began cleaning them. At that point, Abigail knew he was either nervous…or well, nervous. She inwardly smiled; this could be fun.

"None of your business, Hendricks."

"Aw, com'on. She must have been pretty young then, if you're trying to avoid my questions. Spill the beans, Messer. So how big was the difference? 5 years? 8 years?"

"Why do you wanna know so badly?"

"Don't be such a girl, Messer. Besides, I'm pretty sure Lindsay is curious to know too."

"Hey!" interjected the country girl. "Don't pull me into the mix"

The elevator door opened to ground level, and Danny predictably sped out and dashed towards the exit. Abigail laughed and turned to Lindsay, "Don't worry, he'll break."

* * *

Back at the precinct, Abigail went to the empty break room to grab a cup of coffee, as Danny and Lindsay went back to the lab and decided to check the surveillance footage out. Homicide was different, to say the least. While she was enjoying her coffee, a male voice had broken the silence in the room, "So, how are you holding up? Nothing too intense so far?"

Abigail turned around and mockingly narrowed her eyes up at Don Flack, "You know detective, I'm not some kind of fragile emotionally unstable blonde chick. If you must know, it went perfectly fine."

Flack laughed, "I'm sure you can put up a good fight, Hendricks."

Smiling in return, the female detective quickly looked down and remained silent, becoming lost in her thoughts…which in turn, made things for Don quite awkward.

"So…how is narcotics? I worked in that department a long time ago. But I hated it."

Abigail looked up and raised her cup, "The coffee's better here." She then looked down again, determined not to become _too_ acquainted with a man who gave her an eerie feeling at the pit of her stomach. Don, had apparently noticed Abigail's distance and was perplexed. _Usually, they just come hurdling at me. Maybe Danny's right; she could be crazy, _he thought.

He was about to attempt another conversation, when Abigail's phone started to go off. She looked up and said, "That was Lindsay. They got a lead off the piece of paper they found. I'm off to Delmore Prep to look for our mystery girl. I'll catch you later."

Within a heartbeat, Don's eyes followed the mass of brown hair that left the break room.

* * *

Abigail met up with the two CSIs at Delmore prep, when the school bell had just rung. Slowly, young women in school uniforms started to fill the hallways. They began looking around the premises and noticed the _Wicked_ poster that advertised auditions for the school play.

"When I was in high school, we did plays on Shakespeare, " remarked Lindsay, who was looking at the audition poster.

Danny looked over to her, "You guys had high school in Montana?"

The female CSI scowled and rolled her eyes at her counterpart, while Abigail was observing them. She thought they would make an interesting couple, if anything did happen between them, of course.

"So who are we looking for again?" asked the detective.

A group of girls passed the corridor where the three detectives were standing, giggling and talking. Danny observed one of them, and had noticed something in particular about a young brunette who was waiting for the elevator. He nudged his head towards the female student, "Her."

Abigail walked towards the young girl, "Excuse me."

The student had turned her head, and Abigail noted that she was looking down at her. _Another spoiled rich kid, _she thought.

Danny flashed his badge at her, "Mind if we ask for your name?"

The girl sighed, as if the detectives were wasting her time and answered, "Melanie Dobson."

The two CSIs looked at each other, and Danny replied, "You mind if you come to the station with us, Melanie? We have some questions to ask you concerning an ongoing murder investigation."

Melanie inwardly sighed, "Yea I do mind. I have a class to go to."

Abigail smiled at the young girl's disrespect and stubbornness, "And I'm very impatient. So we do it here, in front of all your friends and teachers, or you come with us."

The young girl narrowed her eyes at Abigail, but reluctantly gave in to the detectives. "I'm calling my father," she stated.

"By all means. It's not like you did anything wrong," replied Abigail.

* * *

Arriving at the crime lab, Lindsay led Melanie to a conference room and told her to sit down, while she called Melanie's father. Abigail had taken the liberty to sit in front of the younger girl and began observing Melanie. "You seem nervous, Melanie." Abigail noted.

Melanie looked up and rolled her eyes. Abigail's lips twitched slightly into a smile at her response. _Typical rich teenagers,_ she thought. "You need to start showing us some respect princess. Cause I don't like –"

"You're father's on his way, Melanie," interrupted Lindsay, while looking sternly at Abigail. Despite only becoming acquainted with the former-narcotics detective for a couple of hours, she had sensed that Abigail's impatience could one day lead her into trouble, if not already. So she had decided to quickly stop Abigail from saying something she would regret. Abigail however, wasn't so appreciative over Lindsay's effort – despite the sincerity behind it. She slouched in her chair and sighed loudly.

"Did you want us to wait until he gets here?" continued Lindsay.The Delmore student shook her head, allowing Danny to start questioning her.

"So you were trying out for the play, right?"

"Auditioning," corrected Melanie, arrogantly. "Although I already know I got the part. Mr. Jennings, my voice coach already told me."

"We found your Ipod at the scene of a crime," stated Lindsay, who pushed a picture of the evidence towards Melanie.

"There's _thousands_ of those," Melanie replied quickly. "What makes you think it's mine?"

Danny shrugged, "Oh I dunno, DNA sampling, finger prints…"

"Okay. So maybe it's mine. So what?"

"What'd I tell you about respect, Melanie?" interjected Abigail. She got up from her chair and walked over towards the girl. However, Lindsay was at her tail – yet again. "_Detective,_" she warned. Abigail slowly blinked and coldly stared at Lindsay.

"Where were you last night?" continued Lindsay.

"At my boyfriend's place."

"Would your boyfriend be Jason Kinsey?"

Melanie said nothing, but pursed her lips upwards. Abigail smiled. It was obvious to her that Melanie's relationship with Jason Kinsey was not a well known fact among her family and friends.

"Does your father know where you spend you time, Melanie?"

The younger girl's eyes flared up and defensively said, "Who I see, and what goes on in my family is _none_ of your business."

To Abigail's surprise, Lindsay's face remained straight. If it were her, she probably would have given Melanie a good scolding, "It _is_ our business if it's related to a crime scene."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"We found chopsticks on Jason Kinsey's body, with an elastic band around them," stated Danny. He looked Melanie straight in the eye, and clasped his hands together, "That belongs to you, Melanie."

Melanie, now realizing the predicament she was in, looked away and shifted her body in the chair. "Whatever. We were at Nabokuv's. We were eating dinner, and I was teaching him how to use chopsticks. He must have kept them."

"You hang out at bars a lot? With men like Jason Kinsey?" asked Lindsay.

Melanie narrowed her eyes, "Is there a law against that?"

"He just seems a little old, that's all."

"I don't have to explain myself." Melanie looked over to Danny and did the once over, "Older guys have a way, you know. Makes me feel important."

Abigail tried to stifle a laugh, but was unsuccessful. Melanie looked over towards her and gave her a cold stare. "Important? Sweetie, they're old enough to be your grandfather. Men that age preying on girls like you? Nothing good can come out of that. Surely, you must be smart enough to see that."

"Look, I'm a straight A student –"

"Then why are you walking around with a bulls eye for pedophiles and rapists on your head? One day, you're going to get hurt, and daddy dearest isn't going to be around to help."

"Who are _you_ to tell me how I live my life? You're not my mother, _Detective._"

"It's for you own good! you ungratef-"

"Hey! Hey! That's enough, the both of you! Ms. Dobson, please, calm down," Danny stood up and went over to Abigail and whispered low enough to only she could her, "Hendricks, calm yourself down, would you?"

Abigail sighed and look towards the ground. She then looked back at Danny and harshly whispered, "The way this girl thinks! The way they all think. They're all little-" She cut herself off and closed her eyes. "I'm fine Danny. I'm fine."

Abigail walked towards the window, and decided best if she just listened and let the two CSIs continue on with the interrogation. This girl frustrated Abigail – and she thought Oscar Bowers was bad. Just another spoiled child, whose parents did a bad job raising their kids with low morals. Abigail soon found herself thinking back on her own childhood. Her mother – whose was a successful artist, now living in a nursing home, and her father – an ambitious investor and politician, who never had time for his children. Rumours had erupted during Abigail's high school years that she was the product of an illicit affair her mother once had. However, because of her father's political campaign, the married couple put a happy face and denied the rumours. She was the black sheep – the tomboy, the troublemaker. For as long as she could remember, her father pushed her into becoming a lawyer. Her first year in law school was disastrous and by the time second year rolled around, she opted out. Things were never the same again within the Hendricks family. However, despite the bad relationships, her parents did teach her one thing: Never do anything stupid, and regret it for the rest of your life.

Abigail's thoughts were disrupted when an older man barged in the conference room, "I'm Brad Dobson."

_Ahh._ The father. The man, Abigail noted was of similar age to Oscar Bowers, or Jason Kinsey. "Melanie?" he asked, "What's going on?"

"We're questioning your daughter about the murder of Jason Kinsey," answered Lindsay, "We're done for now."

As both father and daughter exited the room and went towards the elevator, Lindsay turned around and asked Abigail, "What was that all about?"

"Giving her a reality check."

"You don't yell at her like that, she's not a suspect, and you could get a complaint filed against you."

"I appreciate your concern, but next time, it'd be nice if you didn't scold me in front of some spoiled snooty girl."

"I was just trying to help –"

"Well, don't." Abigail had a coldness in her tone, which immediately told Lindsay to drop the topic. Danny, immediately sensing tension between the two females, decided it was best to move on with the investigation. In his experience with women, he knew it was wise never to get involved.

"So…to Nabokuv's?"

* * *

_**A/N:** Sorry for the delay. Been very busy lately. Don't forget to review!_


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